The Death Mask of King Tutankhamen. Acrylic on paper. Still uncompleted.
Until next time.
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Dream October 25, 2007
Last night, I dreamed that I was in an alley. I saw a suspect being chased run past me from left to right. Then I saw four cops one of them was uniformed, the others plainclothed then run past me. I crouched down. Then the uniformed cop ran over my crouched form as I were a hurdle in a track and field race.
Then I saw a couple of brown robed Buddhist priests in a room.
Turn around 180 degrees. I then saw a lady lying on the carpet I knew from Dawson Creek and I asked her if I made a mistake in coming here. She did not think so.
Then I saw a lady Priest in the same living room. There was a coffee table in that living room.
I asked her where she was from. She said she was from Russia. She was ministering to a family in the Russian language.
I heard the father of the family speak. Nyeshnyeshnyaassnyeahnyeck. Something similar to that. I telepathed the thought to him, "I can pick up a lot of languages fast, I now you were speaking Russian, but I do not know the Russian language."
"Why would you know that language?" he asked?
Then I was in a hallway of a sumptuous banquet kitchen. Real lobster thermidor was there. The lady waitress said she would bring more lobster. Then coins of fried pork sausages were brought in, and to serve them, the waitress said, one has to press their thumb slightly on the coins of pork sausage.
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THE CORPSE DREAM
When I was in Thailand I dreamed this dream. I might as well tell the whole story. I will try to put up all the illustrations. The one I drew about my friend Mark, I still have to search for.
I was running out, from North to South out of the Woodward's Building in Vancouver. I saw a man in a wheelchair. I kicked him. Then I ran outside from West to East.
I saw my friend Mark Roy at the Royal Bank on Main and Hastings.
He looked young. I said to him, you are still alive~! He said Yes. Then I telepathed, so that time at the hospital was not real and that I will see you on the streets again. He said, No.
Then I saw a truck running up from West to East passing the Ford Building.
Then I was in the Afton Hotel. Someone left their hotel room door open. A corpse was in there.
I telepathed to the Buddhist Church on Hastings. Then someone brought in a corpse sideways like a piece of luggage.
Then I was at the place where my Buddhist Priest mentor Roshi Koten was. There was a phone on a nightstand. There was also a lamp. I told him of what I saw. Then I gave him a quick hug for my own comfort.
Interpretation: I dreamed this in August of 2003 when I was travelling in Bangkok, Thailand.
When I returned to Vancouver BC at a hotel I was living at in November of 2003, within two and a half years, a friend, George H., David N., Jeff, Jim T., Jason, Paul W., Rosie, all died, and some of them died of drug overdoses. This all from December 2003, until before I left for Dawson Creek in October 2005.
The corpses was a premonition of all those people who would die. Maybe even of the tsunami, since I dreamed that dream while I was in Thailand.
Watching dream and keeping track of it is like watching a game of pool or snooker, watching and keeping track and following the lines of movement of the billiard balls.
Interpretation: There are two types of memories of dreams. One is when one only remembers a few seconds out of a much longer dream. And the other is one remembers the entirety of the long dream. That is because people recall their dreams in the same way and in the same percentage that they do when they are awake. A person remembers their whole life, but these memories are composed of moments here and there and strung together, these moments would not equal more than a couple of months out of a 70 year lifespan. People who live every day, day in day out in the same apartment think that they remember all of yesterday, or all of last week, or do they really? It is a traveller who spends every night of his life sleeping in a different room, different city, really knows how much how much of life a person can really recall. How much of last week's news does one remember anyways, out of all the images shown.
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These days, actually, I am into watching television series which are just as good as movies. When one really gets into a soap opera, one gets into a certain flow where they are so captivated with plot developments that they lose track of virtually all else. That is a state that people seek when they join sports, socialize, paint a picture, do drugs, it is all to get into what is called a "flow". Watching a television series is like watching a dream.
The television shows I bought on DVD are, Oz, seasons 2, 3, 5, and 6. I do not have Oz seasons 1, and 4. Also, I rented from the video store, Prison Break season 2. Prison Break is just as good as Oz. Good writing, always riveting, breakneck pace that just does not let up.
Prison Break season 2 was great! I would recommend it definitely. Watched it all the way through in two days. 22 episodes.
These long running television series though, are usually more popular with foreigners from other countries who do not speak English and 150 episode series are nothing to them.
Wishlist: Oz - season four and season one.
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DREAM GRANVILLE ST PORNO STORE
A few months ago, I had a dream that, was at the Northwest end of the Granville St bridge in Vancouver. The setting of this dream was at night time. There was a yellow store and one entered through a back entrance. Outside the entrance was a wooden boardwalk.
Inside the store was a counter where the cashier worked and directly across from the cashier was a magazine rack with lots of pornographic magazines of naked women.
There was a next room adjacent which also had a magazine rack.
Note: Again, as you see, I am entering dreamspace. Most purported dream shamans are scammers. One day, I would like to meet a dream shaman who will say the words to bring me to the next level of understanding of what all these dreams are and mean.
Sometimes I think people leave cocaine behind at the place where I work as a reward for me putting these stories, etc on the blog. At these times I think of Bart Simpson writing on the blackboard over and over again, "Cocaine is not a reward." It is not something that I really want to get into.
Snorting a small line and then washed down with glasses of white wine is not bad, but anything more than that.... See, snorting is a non-rush kind of cocaine, but crack, and intravenous cocaine injections is the rush form of cocaine and doing such will most certainly bring about the vicious psychic attacks associated with that kind of cocaine abuse. I refuse to do the rush kinds of cocaine ever again. Actually, it is best to avoid it altogether.
Right now, I have a job which I do not know for how much longer, but there, I often find cocaine, powder and rock. Snorting a line of cocaine makes me think of Bill Murray of Saturday Night Live in the 70s and his 'tootskis', and I often imagine that I am the cocaine janitor working at the Stratford hotel in Vermont, those kinds of settings. An image that is carried around in the mind is called a yantra in Tibetan. The job that I work at is not too bad, just once in a while I think of quitting, on the mornings that I feel really tired or when the workday is not going well. But most of the time that job is actually not too bad.
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Dream: August 2003 The West End, Tam, Other Side and Mom
In August 2003, when I was in Thailand, I had a great dream. I remember all of it, from start to finish. They put strange things in the drinks there, and I remember while I was there, vendors were available who sold gingko biloba freshly plucked from the tree and then they knew how to mull and steep the mixture to a proper brew. There is some sugar in the drink that I could taste. Anyways, my dreams were never as intense and never could I recall them so well as when I was not drinking beer, not smoking pot at all for months on end, for me a phenomenon, and then drinking gingko biloba juice.
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I was standing on Charansanitwong and Krungthon, in Bangkok Thailand, on the Southwest corner, looking South. I was asking about repairing a silver pocket-watch. A car, a 4-door 1973 Datsun 510 was waiting across the street.
The car teleported to the neighbourhood of Kitsilano in the toney West End of Vancouver.
I was sleeping on the shores of Spanish Banks beach, the white caps of the waves evident as they lapped along the shore.
I went to a parking lot to get a sleeping mat which had a pattern of silvery cocaine pinstripes on dark corporate blue.
I brought the pinstripe back with me where I was sleeping.
Then I was crossing a river heading East, running along the river in a perfect adjacent parallel line, in the middle, was a wooden board bridge. On the other side of the bridge is my friend who died ten years ago, Tam *******.
I walked with her along a wall in what I recognized to be a wall of the place where the lady sells fried rice on Soi 68, where I stayed, except in the dream, the rice lady was not there, just the wall. I asked her if she had ever been to Bangkok Thailand. She said yes, but I knew she was lying. She just did not want to admit that she had not.
I then followed her along a corridor.
I followed her into an all white art room. Tam was sitting at a table, drawing a picture with a lady whom I will not name here because she is an artist now in Dawson Creek. She changed her name. Back in the day, I knew her as ***** ******.
Then I saw an open newspaper, and then a slight Oriental woman very slight, moved fleetingly fast, in semi-teleportation and then for a second she stopped and beamed down at me. Smiling. The love I felt in that brief second was very real and very intense.
Then I moved to the left and at the other side of the art room were at least two other figures also sitting at a table, but these figures had a murky vibe to them.
Then one of them looked at me. He had a wood grained face with thick round black glasses, a pig nose, and buck tooth. He telepathed to me, almost angry, "Don't you know you are sitting with the dead?!"
Then I moved back to the art table.
At that table, Tam showed me a picture of herself on a ski trip wearing a ski outfit. And then, the other artist asked me if I knew anything about crystal meth.
Interpretation: Within two years of this dream, at least two of my friends would die of crystal meth. After my friend Jason died in July 2005, coincidentally, on the news, then Vancouver Mayor Owen talked about moving crystal meth to a Schedule A drug.*
Then finally, I am shown a picture of the side of a red barn, and painted on the side of the barn was the word ACCOMPLISHMENT.
A barn along the Spirit Highway, Dawson Creek, which reminds me of the barn of the ACCOMPLISHMENT photo above. STAR WARS episode 7, to be released in 2021 will be using not CGI, but the next generation after that called PRI which is photorealistic imagery:
http://www.rickroot.com/blog/1/2006/12/Star-Wars-Episode-7--The-Fallen-Hero.cfm
I hope that one day I find out more of what these dreams mean. There is something that I want to hear and I will know it when I hear it.
* In Canada, drugs are listed under Schedules A to Schedule D. Shedule A is the most illegal, and Schedule D is over the counter.
In the U.S., it is Table 1 for the most illegal drugs to Table 5 to the least illegal drugs.
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DREAM GERMANY 1940s
Warning: From hell. Archetypally unsettling images to follow.
When I was in Thailand in the summer of 2003, I had another dream in which I remembered the entire sequence, being able to string together the images like precious beads in a pearl necklace. The summer of 2003. A summer of dreams.
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I sensed this was Germany in the 1940s. A certain technology, a certain colour of the sky, the buildings around, a vibe. Entering the outskirts of a small town. A discarded Frigidaire refridgerator was just outside next to a pile of junkyard trash.
Then I was at a section of 1940s style freshly whitewashed army barracks style cottages. A blonde real estate agent, thin, tall German and blonde haired wearing a white shirt and jeans.
He led the group including me and a Jewish girl. He said that this apartment has a kitchen, and then he turned to the Jewish girl and said, "Showers too if you want to get extra comfortable."
"Yeah, right." she said. She was clearly unhappy at what the real estate agent said.
There was a close up view of the kitchen without words. The sunlight was bright Spring time sunlight. The place was spotlessly clean even though the table and chairs was low tech, just a wooden table and chairs of that era.
Then there was the decapitated head of the real estate agent on a wooden bench just outside, in the barracks area. Just outside the house we were at.
Then as we were making our way out of there, I saw a lady opening a picket fence coming towards us. Telepathically, I knew at once that was the wife of the real estate agent. I said to the Jewish girl who was with me, "That's his wife, we got to get out of here."
I sensed that we had gotten into a car. We looked in the distance.
All of a sudden a set of car lights went on. That was the car of the wife of the real estate agent.
Then the car I was in with the girl was flying over the night fields.
Yu-Yu Hakusho Ghost Detective. I myself, am apparently a ghost detective. To any Police forces operating in other dimensions, this depiction of a dream is me reporting someone having been murdered. Although this is a very cold case, what with it happening in the early 1940s. And this is just a dream, too. Who knows what dreams mean? I am still working on it.
The 5th Dimension is thought. The 3D solid holographic Universe is dependant on the forces of relativity. The 5D non sold holographic Universe is not dependant on relativity at all. Teleportation is possible. In all cultures there are dream shamans. The Illuminati is covering up the true significance of dreams like they are concealing the discovery of ETs, that is if you believe the conspiracy theorists. I doubt this.
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Bruce Lee
Some time ago, I don't remember when, I had a dream about the martial arts movie-star Bruce Lee.
Bruce Lee is alive in heaven and doing well. He is into motorcycles these days and here he is as I saw him and the street around him in what I recognize to be Hawaii. In Heaven, Bruce Lee is in Hawaii riding around on motorcycles. This sounds like him.
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Bruce Lee will live forever. In centuries to come, people will still remember Bruce Lee.
I have had a few Bruce Lee dreams. Once, I dreamed there was a rooftop fight between a couple of guys. It reminded me very much of a Bruce Lee movie. Maybe one of the guys fighting was Bruce Lee. I recognized this as the early 70s. There was a brick building next and I could see it below. In that next building was a funeral.
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Dream: Saturday, November 10, 2007
Last night, I dreamed that I was at a Chinese place, like a Chinatown of which I have had a few dreams about. In one part of the dream, I was walking up a staircase. Below, in between the stairs were hundreds of wriggling squirming little animals. I saw a baby white pangolin run from left to right under the stairs too.
I go up the stairs to the top of the stairs, turn left and in the room was a guy whom I sensed was named Sean. I told him about the stairs and the animals I saw and how at the end of the day, the stairs would be a couple of animals short since the animals were slaughtered for the restaurant. But then we concluded that every day, the stock is replenished as new animals are brought in.
Another part of the dream, was me running through a Chinese mini mall. Sometimes it was open, other times it was closed. The way into the stores of this mini mall was a sliding aluminum garage door.
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Dream: Al Capone
Warning: From hell. Archetypally disturbing images and text.
In November of 2005, in Dawson Creek, I had a dream about a famous historical figure.
I was in a hallway, with a stairways railing in the center. There was a shootout. I shot some guy going out a window. This was all taking place in the hallway of a rooming house in the cheap part of town, circa the 1920s. I shot the guy multiple times and he shot me. Yes, I was shot and lying on the floor in the middle of the hall.
Then I saw Al Capone. He was all green and fat, and young, and he exclaimed, "I was going to run for President of the United States but I could not because I got syphilis!"
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Then I was in a mini kitchen/hallway of an apartment. I was shot and the lying form on the ground of me in that hallway in the rooming house teleported here and I was lying on the ground. A gangster came into the room and saw that I was injured and shot me. In fact, I was thinking, How evil, typically of a gangster to see that I am injured and instead of helping, shooting more shots to make sure.
Interpretation: The on the day just before night in which I was to have this dream, I was at the office of my boss, and there was a magazine in which Al Capone was on the cover. It was a black and white photo of him standing next to an old fashioned car.
Interpretation 2: Flanking. Right hand man. Left hand man. The past is the right hand man. The future is the left hand man. A trumpeter to announce the arrival. A trumpeter to announce the departure. With that in mind, before Al Capone appeared, a gangster appeared and shot me. After all Capone appeared a gangster appeared and shot me.
Even in the dream world: My body teleported to another room. Police have dogs trained to sniff out the scent of death. Blood stains, marks that do not carry the signature death smell would be overlooked by the cadaver dog. Gangsters knowing this will move the body before performing the final kill.
A couple of nights ago, I had a conversation with a lady. I told her that I surmised that a spirit during astral projection does not feel temperatures, so temperatures, like little aches and pains are something that is only felt in this dimension. She said, "You never went there before, you don't know!" See, I dislike people who knock me down, cynical people and that is why it is important to have friends who support you. But maybe she was right on a level because everyone hears about how hell is hot.
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Dream: SHOT
Warning: From hell. Archetypally disturbing images and text.
Sometime last year, I dreamed that I was sitting at a table in a house and someone came in and shot me with a gun. In the dream, even though I felt the bullet and knew I was shot and knew I was supposed to be dead, I still felt very much alive.
Interpretation: There is a movie with Hayden Christiansen where the operation subject on the table is aware of the operation and not under sedation at all, but paralysed through anaesthesia. Look, anesthesiologists try to not put too little anaesthetic so that the pain is not felt, but not too much so that death results, but there is a thin 15% line where one feels pain, but does not die....
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Dream: Black Tracks
On Sunday December 9, I had a dream that I saw a black man stand in front of me and extend his left arm. I saw track marks all along his arms from shoulder to wrist and I reached up and touched one of the marks as I looked closer.
To be honest, I remembered the dream wrong. I think it was a young black prostitute and she was wearing a thin white nightgown. The standing in the formation like a cross as I remembered later on that day made me misremember the dream to be that of a white guy because that cross posture is very masculine and makes me think about Egypt.
The marks felt like craters and there was a little circular shine and the texture of the crater reflected light.
Interpretation: Now I have shot heroin, cocaine in my life, but within a countable number of times. The number of times I have shot up in my youth years ago, all added up is not a number that you can't count. All those times would equal the number of track marks which could fit on one arm. This dream is a metaphor me me facing myself and all the number of times I shot up.
In dreams, things typically behave even more than they are and the path of the track marks in this dream show exactly the possibility in terms of potential vein path found - exclusively on the left arm!
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Dream. Ear. Sunday December 22, 2007
Warning: From hell. Archetypally disturbing images.
As a segment of a much larger dream, I remembered feeling the ear hole of my left ear and feeling some wet sticky organ, much more considerable than just earwax. When I looked at an image of it that somehow appeared, I saw that there was a yellow liver shaped organ that was protruding out of the inner recesses of my skull and into my right ear.
An Arabian doctor showed up and, to be honest I felt he was a little jealous of me and there was a malicious vibe as he cut away the inner organ that the yellow liver thing is attached to which looked like a big piece of raw liver and he was cutting it was garden shears. It hurt and at the same time, it did not, and at the same time it did, and at the same time it did not, like dreams do. I remember getting a burn in metalwork class and at the time I got the burn it did not hurt, but starting minutes after and for a whole day after that, it hurt.
Interpretation: In the 3D world, injuries do not hurt at the time but later. In the 5D world injuries hurt at the time but not a second later. The relativity of the shock of momentary situational pain set against the usual painless state of the 5th Dimension is what makes injuries in dreams hurt at the time and not after.
Interpretation 2: These hell depictions are no less than crime reports which I am through the mere virtue of displaying on the internet, am reporting to the Police of the 5th Dimension, the astral world of dreams and the afterdeath world. Police Blotter. I have seen Police in my dreams. Less than 24 hours after I put on the CGI dream depiction of 1940s Germany with the white houses and the decapitated head of the blonde guy, I saw a show on History Channel 31 that talked about the 1940s bombings in London and I saw a young British Policewoman in the 1940s in that footage. There was my answer! I would like the Police of the 5th Dimension to investigate this fucking doctor!
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Dream: The Gay Ghost
Warning: From hell. Archetypally disturbing images.
Foreword: In the 1950s, DC Comics had a character called The Gay Ghost. It's name was changed in the 60s to The Grim Ghost.
A few nights ago, I saw some guy lying on a bed I recognize to be mine. Looking North. I stroke his body under the sheets like petting an animal at a zoo, but also to be mischievous.
Interpretation: Bed I recognize to be my current one, looking North. A figure that looks a lot like me. This is classic astral projection. The person I saw in the bed was probably me.
"I hate to say it, I hate to say it. But it's probably me." - Sting
Then that person transformed into a beast like in that Nicorette commercial where the gremlin is asking the woman if she wants to go outside for a smoke. Except that being was all one colour, pale and had lots of large triangular piranha teeth and I sensed a strong homosexual vibe from it. It looked like it was salivating, eyes big and then moving its jaws up and down was going to bite my neck!
I remembered that I am an orcslayer like from Lord of the Rings so I was not afraid. I held up my hand and grabbed it on the mouth pushing it away.
It opened its mouth and a flame like a butane lighter emerged. I blew it out with a breath from my mouth.
All of a sudden, it disappeared, yanked away from me by my spiritual protector. The suddenness of it did feel like an intervention.
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Airport Nightmare
Warning: From hell.
I had this dream about a year ago in the summer of 2007.
Down the stairs of an airport lounge waiting area. I am there, and there is someone standing in front of me.
This person standing in front of me at the airport lounge.
Bald head, blank stare.
His left eye has a surgical scar with sutures. Bad vibes emanating from this person.
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Dream February 10, 2008
reprinted from www.myspace.com/drdrtfehytf
Dream Sunday February 10
The dream I had a couple of nights ago was that I was at the old VPL on Burrard and Robson in Vancouver.
I showed a lady in a booth how well I could levitate. In my dreams I always rediscover how well I could fly. As I looked down, I saw my feet in front of the booth, a classic astral projection SPOV or spectators point of view.
I saw my old friend Angena who was 60 years old back in 1999. She looked 60.When I hugged her, a pleasant surprise. I kissed her on the lips and felt the fleshy fatness of her lips against mine, a tactile feeling, in a dream.
There was a young lady sitting down on the floor between two short black library shelves amongst a whole bunch of others. She is wearing a pink flower print bikini top blouse. She was talking about some topic.
Interpretation: Spooky. This is the classic ghost position. If a ghost was present at a Library, this is one of the usual formations they would assume.
Then I sensed I was kicked out of and barred from the Vancouver Public Library. There are some elevators in the distance to the left. I get on the elevator.
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Warning: This next part is from hell. The janitor.
In the elevator. I am going to the Third Floor of my old high school. Dark hooded figures in the elevator with me. The elevator door opened. I was at the 3rd floor of a high school.
I get out of the elevator and turn right. A row of lockers. I then remember that to get to my locker to get my things, I should go to the 2nd floor.
In the middle of the hall to the right is a door that leads to a stairwell.
Stairs go down one flight away to a landing then one flight towards to the next hallway floor above or below. I walk down these stairs.
I see a Southeast Asian guy, brown skin, a little bit fat, and sweating. He said that I should get out as the school is being closed down and taken over by racists, Nazis. I run into the second floor hall and turn right.
Directly ahead with his back towards me holding a broom is a janitor sweeping in front of an open locker. He did not look happy to see me.
Interpretation: A lot of schools are haunted. I obviously astral projected to a school, maybe even my old high school. Sometimes these ghosts are students, sometimes they are teachers, and sometimes they are janitors. Here is what a typical earthbound ghost which is typically angry, of a janitor looks like.
I look to my left and see an open locker with toilet paper streaming down from it.
I then think to myself, "If the school is like this, I got to get out of here now. It is not worth it to try to find what locker my things are in."
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Winter Ghost Story
fiction
Jake Brawn lived in an apartment in the North. One night, which was strange because he usually gets no visitors got a knock on the door. There were two Natives, a man and a woman. The man was wearing an Army camouflage t-shirt. They asked me if someone whom I did not know was here at my apartment. I said no.
A couple of minutes later, someone yelled loudly just outside.
The next day, Jake Brawn went to work as a janitor and discarded in the woman's washroom was underwear and dirty underwear at that.
A few days later, Jake happened to find out that a friend that he knew had passed away. When he found out the day, he remembered it to be the day that he got the visitors and hearing the yells outside the window. Also he remembered the discarded underwear which he saw everytime a person died. This is one of the signs of death like birds on a windowsill. Birds on a windowsill is before a death happens. Discarded underwear is after a death happens. The first time, Jake noticed this peculiar phenomenon, it was a red underwear with skulls. The next time it was a white underwear with multicoloured thin stripes. The time after that, when another friend died, he saw blue underwear discarded in an alleyway.
Jake Brawn also happened to be a trained ghost detective. When his friend died, her apparition must have visited him in his room, even wanting to speak with him. The apparition may have been there for as long as half an hour. The people knocking on the door were shamans and as soon as he got up to answer the door, totally ignoring the apparition, that is when the apparition started to know something was wrong. When he opened the door the shamans looked right at Jake, at least he thought it was him they were looking at, and for all he knew, the shamans might have been looking right at the apparition. The final insult was the yells outside the window which must have totally unnerved the apparition and it left.
There was a strange electricity that day, that's for sure.
Dean Noble
Dawson Creek BC
January 7, 2008
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Movie: White Noise
This is not a movie about turning on a fan or a motor in an otherwise mausoleum quiet hotel and to dampen down any little noises around that are also otherwise annoying.
This is a movie about EVP which stands for electronic voice phenomenon. Scientists have recorded distinct voices in otherwise television static. These voices are voices of spirits from the other side. This is like standing next to a gutter on a rainy day and waiting for a diamond ring to float past. One has to go through a lot of static, hours, days to hear any kind of distinguishable EVP and would it be worth the effort? Doing this kind of thing is creepy.
A warning about this movie. Do not watch this movie as you are nodding off to sleep. This is a very dangerous thing to do. The EVP examples played in this movie are real. I would not put it past these fuckers to do that. Falling asleep, one puts themself in the consciousness vibrational code, the same frequency that ghosts operate on.
Anyways, Michael Keaton stars in this movie. I can see someone writing this comment about him in this role on YouTube. "Age has not done him well lol" In fact, why don't I do that?
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THE BOARD MEETING FROM HELL
Warning: From hell.
I had a dream in October 2005. The guy being held up by the tie... is me. It took me this long to feel comfortable enough with putting this up. Comfortable enough with, in this case, means to not give a shit about.
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GHOST SCREAM
Sigh... I was debating whether or not to post this story, but Sylvia Browne, and James Van Praagh, and John Edwards write stories like this all the time.
And time has passed.
In October 2005, one afternoon, I was having an afternoon nap. I was staying in my hotel. I have not disclosed my address on this blog yet. None of you know where I live. Anyhow, I was sleeping and astral projecting as the dream had a heavy, syrruppy vivid feeling more than a usual dream, as astral projections usually have and I recognized the hotel I was staying in as I was returning home to my hotel. Walking up the stairs.
Illustration: From my journal which includes dream journal.
Sylvia Browne wrote, "It goes without saying that it is much easier to see ghosts when you are astral projecting because you are on the same vibrational frequency as them."
I was walking up the stairs in my astral projected self. The stairs were in mirror image everything that was usually right was left including the stairwell. I was on the landing of the stairwell looking down, and I saw a young, 16 year old Native female. She was wearing a black hoody sweatshirt. I was looking down at her as her arms were folded on her knees as she sat on the step. I got a flurry of feelings from her, scared, proud, confused, angry, lost.
On the landing I saw that Native girl again, but just before I saw her, I had a fleeting, exquisite bittersweet vision of some funeral flowers at the head of a casket at a funeral, it was then I knew that this person was dead and only recently dead, and I had a fleeting thought, "This is what they talked about when I was a teenager. This is a ghost!"
And then I went up to my room and I recognized my bedroom, and in the doorway, a tall lady in 19th Century black flowing lace. She passed the doorway going straight across. I got a feeling from her. She was stubbornly wrapped up in her own business and thought it was only momentarily contemptibly curious as she turned her head to look at me that I would be looking at her.
photograph: A dress at the Dawson Creek museum. These dresses are typical of the middle class of the 1800s, and reminds me of the dress of the second ghost that I saw.
I screamed in my sleep. It was a real Edward Munchian scream and I remember the dream to this day. My boss Charles Kux-Kardos visited then and I was awoken when I heard a knock at the door. This was at 1:30 pm on a Friday.
I woke up feeling that I had to tell the landlady about this. I saw her a couple of minutes later, in fact, in the hall but I stopped myself because I thought that if I told her the story, she would think I was crazy.
The next day, at the same time, at 1:30 pm, maybe to be territorial, maybe to be sentimental, the power went out!
Within a couple of days a tall, big, brawny Native man knocked on the door and he asked for someone as he looked around my room.
I never saw the ghosts ever again.
Interpretation: Charles' knock disintegrated the ghosts immediate presence.
Ghosts will sometimes reappear at the same time every day to be, as I wrote, territorial and for sentimental reasons. The tall big Native man was a spiritual protector. Spiritual protectors are usually big and tall. When the ghosts saw him, they were afraid to visit my room anymore.
About a week after, I saw in the Peace River Block News obituary, that there was a 16 year old Native girl who died of a drug overdose!
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From hell:
A dream that I once had years ago of me and my adoptive brother at a hotel room during a summer vacation talking about that my adoptive sister had not returned for a long time. In the dream, as it turns out, she would be abducted and murdered.
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Dream Friday Afternoon. Dec. 19, 2008/
At Canada Place.
I see a marching row of soldiers. Ghostly black and white.
Then I see Adolf Hitler. He is a black and white ghost, looking like the hologram in the middle of the living room in the movie Vanilla Sky.
Then I teleport around the corner.
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Warning: This next paragraph, bad.
I watch a movie of this Chinese guy. Then at the Library, against a shelf are videotapes which I sense are about this guy. I recognize this to be the Strathcona School Library in East Vancouver, the Southwest corner. They are videotape boxes with tapes in them. The spines on the tapes say, Chapter1, Chapter 2, Chapter 4, Chapter 7 The Chu Chou Triads, Chapter 10. The tapes are obviously missing a few chapters. To my left is a wall and a window to my front is the library bookshelf, a little taller than me. Behind me is another bookshelf running parallel. To my right three Chinese guys approach all wearing black felt navy jackets. Triads. They say, "I should not be looking at tapes like that." I put the tapes down and leave. They escort me a few steps. When I look back, the tapes are not there.*
*Interpretation: Are these guys in the black felt navy pea jackets the same guys that I saw at the school playground with Steve Cleary? Are these the same guys I saw last week at that food stall at the mall, that I depicted in The Little Match Girl? Because if they are, then I am in trouble. A 45 year old Chinese Triad WOULD appear in a dream as a 15 year old, knowing what I know about the PMH Atwaterian Master Vibration that is found in dreams, people are involuntarily young and pristine. These guys never did anything really bad to me. I think they want me to be their friend, sense my extreme hesitation, and then feel slightly spurned because of it, perpetually; a telepathic schism. More likely than not, these guys are probably my protectors. But to tell you the truth, I still have a hatred for Asian women. For some reason, I can't stand them and still turn the channel whenever I see them on television. There is only one Asian lady whom I trust absolutely, and she is my Vietnamese boss.
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Dream: Friday March 5, 2010
Warning: From hell. A creepy vibe.
A normal guy.
The normal guy morphs into something with three tentacles springing from his pelvic area and legs which are still normal.
A man behind him, obviously a homosexual said, "Now that you are in a vulnerable state, I can take advantage of it and fuck you up the ass!"
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Dream, Thursday, April 15, 2010
A vivid dream. I was on a metro city bus in Vancouver going West down Hastings between Hornby and Burrard. I sit down at the singular window seats on the left side of the bus.
Sitting on the seat behind me is an Oriental woman, young, about 24 years old, slim, long straight hair. wearing a V-neck red sweater, no t-shirt underneath, is glaring at me. OK. I change seats.
I sit on the double seats on the right of the bus next to an Oriental man. I sense they are husband and wife. I speak Chinese with the man, pleasant words. He speaks with me. All of a sudden that Oriental woman at the aisle seats moves right next to me. She starts insulting me calling me stupid, and she is mad that I "jok Jung Gok Yun" in Cantonese Chinese which means Pretending to be Chinese, or pretending to like the Chinese or else some complicitous thing with the Chinese.
My first response is, and was, I asked her if she wants to fight. She said that she does want to fight. She had changed the colour of her clothes like a ghost/cuttlefish that people can do in dreams, and now she was wearing an icy blue sweater. At this point, we are standing at the rear exit doors. The man told her to calm down and that it was nothing and if she was really serious about fighting.
"I want to take a swing at him!" she said in perfect English with a perfect accent.
I decide to be English about it, and maybe because I was a little nervous, I decide not to follow them. To be British, to not dignify this with an answer was what I was thinking at the time.
The bus was empty. Now the bus was at the corner of Hastings and Burrard. I see the Chinese couple sitting on the park bench. There is one other Chinese lady sitting with them. The bus driver, an Arab or East Indian guy with black wavy hair steps out for a minute and then walks back in. I thought he was going to talk with the Chinese lady.
Then the bus on Hastings heading West turns left gping South down Burrard and I remember thinking, almost as if narrating to myself at the time, "When I speak Chinese in Dawson Creek, people smile and see it as a good thing. I knew it, just like I wrote in Vancouver you can be walking down the street coasting along normally and then all of a sudden, an unpleasant surprise. The Chinese in Vancouver, indeed Vancouver is a rude city!"
I remember wishing I was in the streets of Dawson Creek again. And then walking the streets of Dawson Creek, and then waking up.
Interpretation: The thing is, the bus went from East to West, and then from North to South.
This reminds me about the dream about my female cousin my age who was driving a beige coloured Valiant, going from East to West in front of HR Block in my town here. The car with her in it, and in the car, she appeared slim, 19 years old with a shoulder length haircut. She looks different now.
That is a clue about the sun, which is The Light. The sun sure, rises in the East and sets in the West, but is describes a North to South trajectory.
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Feeding of the Hungry Ghosts
Dim Sum
Just to be a little different, I thought I would add this picture of a meal that even half finished looks delicious.
source: Wikipedia: Dim Sum
Since there are so many depictions of figures, characters, personalities from the decidedly more hellish realms in this blog posting, I thought that I should add this picture to offer to these spirits who, according to traditional mythology are the type of spirits that are generally usually hungry.
Because of a lifetime of greed and power seeking, these spirits have been not yet reincarnated on Earth and are struggling in the nether realms with a constant hunger. The feeding of the ghosts shows them that people still love them and this helps them to find the way back to the light and the good again.
http://www.hons.ca/hons_english.htm
This dish is braised abalone, or bao yu. A can of this at T&T Supermarket in Vancouver BC Canada sells for $75 Canadian a can. There is a variety that sells for $5 a can but that is false abalone, as it is a species of periwinkle that approximates the abalone. It is the radula or the foot that is the prized part.
source: Wikipedia: Bao yu.
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On facebook, there is a game: What is your redneck name? Answer a bunch of questions and an answer would appear.
There just as well ought to be a game called, If You Were An Earthbound Ghost, where would you be?
1. Is there any place that you spend more than your actual home, including your own home, so much so that either this place, or your actual home could be referred to as "Your second home."?
What place is that?
2. Is there anyplace where you say to yourself, "I've been dying to come here. I could just stay here forever." What is that place?
3. Are there any places that you visit recurringly in your dreams, places that remind you of a run down version of a place that you know well on Earth and in this life? Places which you find dark, yet oddly compelling? What place?!
Answer: Whatever place you wrote is your answer.
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Dean Noble
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